This part of the story may be difficult. Mental illness is discussed.
Another Pregnacy
I was a bit resentful this time, and understanding how women could want to put their babies up for adoption. I did NOT want another baby. I was more than happy to be a mom of one, and knew that everything was going to change when this second baby came. But I put on a happy face for everyone else around me. This time, there was no hiding it. I was in maternity clothes at 8 weeks pregnant. It was extremely obvious what was going on, so everyone was informed much sooner this time around. Everything went like clockwork, and when it came time to deliver her, I had a planned c-section. I was told that my chances for natural delivery were about 80/20 against sucessful delivery. So, I opted for a repeat section. It was scheduled for the 26th of October. We went in at 5 a.m. and started the pre-op procedures. I was wheeled into the O.R. at 7:15, and was back in my room at 7:30. Not only was Jake in the room for this one, but he stood up and WATCHED her be born. She was beautiful, and while Maddy looks exactly like me, Laura looks exactly like her father. I was able to hold her as soon as she was done in the nursery, being cleaned up, etc. She breastfed like a champ from the word "go". She knew exactly what she needed to do, whereas Maddy, I fought for a week trying to teach her to nurse, until finally, I gave up and gave her a bottle (which she sucked down in seconds). I really had no choice but to grow attached to Laura. She nursed for 45 minutes, every half hour. Around the clock. For eight months. She'd nurse for 45 minutes, sleep for a half hour, nurse for 45 minutes, play for a half hour, repeat. For eight months, I lived with a blanket over one shoulder or the other all day long. I didn't think it was going to happen, but she captured my heart completely.
A Long Time Coming
After Laura, I developed post-partum psychosis. It went so far beyond depression. It was dangerous, and scary. I was put on zoloft. When Laura was eight months old, I was reading a magazine. In it, there was an ad for a bipolar medication with a checklist of symptoms. I answered "yes" to every one. I showed the ad to my mother-in-law, who said "You know, that makes a lot of sense. Maybe you should call your doctor." So I made an appointment with my general practitioner. He asked me a series of questions, prescribed something, and referred me to a psychologist. I didn't like that one, so found one closer to home. He asked me a list of questions, and prescribed different things. But, both doctors had diagnosed me as bipolar, though I didn't *really* know yet what it all meant.
Next: An Attempt and A Recovery.
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